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Archive for November, 2012

Progress Report, in which I answer my own question

Last Monday, I wondered how much I would get done over the coming holiday week, given that I was traveling, and all.

Today I have my answer:  none.

Hey, give me a break; I’m on vacation.

We’ll talk more next week.

Current Music: "Carnies"--Rush (from the Endless Soundtrack in My Head)

Progress Report, in which I get on the board

Another eighteen hundred words on Escaping Canaan means that Magic Meter looks like this now:

Still far from impressive, I know.  On the other hand, I doubled my output from the previous week, and I have an actual percentage to show for it.  I’m on the board!

Hey, it counts, all right?  Shut up.

In truth, my schedule hasn’t settled down yet, and I’ve been suffering from a crisis of confidence.  The latter is nothing new, but it’s unusual for it to hit so early.  Things are looking up, though.  As I read through the notes I made months ago, I began to recapture some of the frisson that made me believe I had a novel in there somewhere.   These characters have some hidden depths that I’m excited to explore.  Where it’s all gonna lead, I’m not entirely sure (I never am), but I’m more confident now than I was at this time last week that it will be someplace worth visiting.

Your snippet:

Around him, other agents were approaching other passengers, extending similar greetings.  A row of three conduits filled most of the space, a chamber beneath Union Station.  The D.C. facility in the timeline he’d just departed dwarfed this one–so large that from one end, he couldn’t see all the way across.  It boasted at least twenty conduits, and the volume of travelers made the place crowded and boisterous.

The Canaan facility, by contrast, was quiet and deserted, except for the debarking passengers . . . and a knot of people near the elevators, bearing signs with messages like Close the Conduits, Sinners Go Home, and most memorably, You Are Not Welcome Here.  The woman holding that one locked gazes with Eric for a moment.  She could have been his mother’s age.  He might even have considered her pretty had her expression not been so stony and grim.  Her lower lip curled with revulsion; she stared at him, unblinking, until he turned away.

No updates for Write Club.

Holiday weekend, complete with travel, coming up.  More schedule disruption.  Let’s see how I do with it.

Till next time . . .

Current Music: "How It Is"--Rush

Progress Report, in which I come roaring out of the gate

And so I come roaring out of the gate to start Escaping Canaan.  Kind of.

Hey, it’s a start.  Journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, and all that, you know?

OK, I know it’s not impressive.  I was a bit intimidated by that blank first page this time around.  As always, I’m not at all convinced that I’ve prepared enough.  At least some of that is hangover from the previous first draft, which was damned difficult precisely because I was flying blind so much of the way.

Once I finally got some words down, though, it felt pretty good.  So I at least have an opening snippet to share:

The great steel door slammed shut behind him, sealing him inside.  Eric Baines had been nervous up to that point, but the resounding clang, followed by the hiss of air as the conduit pressurized, was enough to make him swallow hard.  He’d done this once before, of course, but that time, he’d been escaping to a new life.  He’d known even then that one day he would have to go back, that he would have to step into the conduit and Transit to the world he’d left behind.  The day had come, sooner than he had thought possible, sooner than he would have liked.

Well begun is half done, they say.  Works for me.

Write Club update:  Tier two bounce from Lightspeed.  Response time–two days.

I’m out.

Current Music: "Rock Me Amadeus"--Falco (from the Endless Soundtrack in My Head)